


muscles

by soulshrapnel



Series: Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [15]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Massage, vader takes his suit off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27024790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulshrapnel/pseuds/soulshrapnel
Summary: When it was Tarkin's turn, it was very straightforward. He lay facedown on his guest bed, and he let Vader loom over him and put those metal hands to good use.(Kinktober, Day 15: Massage)
Relationships: Wilhuff Tarkin/Darth Vader
Series: Villainous Kinktober fills 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947379
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	muscles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spooky-Spaghetties (Windershins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windershins/gifts).



> Prompt by Spooky-Spaghetties: _"if you’ve still got day 15 open, massage for Vader/Tarkin?"_
> 
> This takes place sometime midway through the epilogue to "I Will Not Let My Body Belong To The Dead," when Vader's still getting used to being touched safely on his actual skin.

When it was Tarkin's turn, it was very straightforward. He lay facedown on his guest bed, and he let Vader loom over him and put those metal hands to good use. Vader was _so_ strong, more than any human had a right to be, and he could use the Force so effortlessly to detect what was sensitive, what was tense, what needed his touch the most. He found every one of the knots that had formed around Tarkin's shoulders and spine, after endless days standing straight and tense in command, and he crushed each one out of existence. He wrung noises out of Tarkin that way which could otherwise only have been achieved with sex. Tarkin lay half-asleep with bliss, afterwards, far too warm and content to move.

Vader did all sorts of things to people, but he rarely touched them with his hands. Tarkin suspected that he was the only one, since Vader's accident, to ever receive this particular honor.

When it was Vader's turn, it was a little more complicated. It was a matter of getting him onto a padded table, first, in the hyperbaric room at his fortress where such things were safe, and getting his suit off. The medical droid had to help with that. She had to carefully turn Vader facedown without jarring him, and then she hovered anxiously at the edge of the room while Tarkin approached. They were still working on getting Vader comfortable with having his body directly touched, and there were certain fractious areas that Tarkin knew he should avoid.

He spread a sterile massage oil onto his fingers, and then he brought them down as lightly as possible, just brushing against Vader's scarred skin.

"Is that enough?" he asked. He had held and touched Vader in these places before, but not in quite this way.

"That..." said Vader, strained as he often was when he felt some new sensation, or some very old one that had been denied to him for years. "That is good. Keep going, but no harder."

Tarkin let his fingers trail down, then, as gently as before, mimicking the things a real masseuse would have done over the hard lumps of Vader's muscles, but applying no pressure.

He loved the sight of Vader's body like this. Of course there were the scars and the medical intrusions, but that didn't matter; the scars only meant that Vader had been tested, again and again, in ways hard and difficult enough to matter, and he had risen to the challenge of survival. Vader was so powerful and strong, even without the armor: as broadly muscled as an athlete. Tarkin refrained from complimenting him, because Vader was dysphoric around his injuries and didn't like to be reminded of them in words. But when Tarkin kept his mouth shut, Vader liked the way he looked at him.

He knew that Vader felt pain when touched, no matter how light Tarkin's fingers or how easily the massage oil let them glide. He knew that, regardless, Vader wanted as much of it as he could bear.

"I'm afraid I may not end up releasing much tension," Tarkin said. He could feel, under his fingertips, where the muscles were tight. They bunched strangely around the places where medical technologies intruded into Vader's body. They knotted and compressed around themselves in the places where the suit weighed heaviest.

"There is no need," said Vader. His voice was weak and breathy without the usual mask. "Only touch me."

Tarkin took his time. In the places where the muscles seemed to bunch most painfully, he let his fingers still. Applying no more pressure than before, but mimicking the patterns of an actual masseuse, who might stay with a knot and lean into it. He slowly worked his way around those places' edges, tracing their contours.

A tiny moan, really halfway a whimper, escaped Vader's lips.

"When I am back in my suit," he growled, "I will destroy you."

Tarkin let his hands rove a little lower. "Is that so?"

He knew not to take this particular sort of threat seriously. He stroked down the small of Vader's back, and lower, as far as the medical apparatus allowed. Tarkin liked Vader's hips and the stumps of his thighs. Vader had to be so strong there, to propel himself around in that armor all day, and it showed. For some reason it amused Tarkin that he liked them. _What are you doing, Wilhuff? Oh, just staring at Darth Vader's ass._

"Yes," said Vader. His voice was strained. "Keep going."

Tarkin did.

**Author's Note:**

> This month is filling up with good prompts but there are still like 3 slots left if anyone wants to make a last minute grab! full list [here](https://madeofsplinters.tumblr.com/post/629788051840909312/kinktober-masterpost)


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